Not Quite A Christmas Miracle
by Shannon Vega
Summary: Fanfic fix for Coulson's death because I like the snarky guy.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Fanfic fix for Coulson's death. 'Cause I liked the snarky guy.

Author's Note: This has OCs. I will, hopefully, keep everyone in character. Also this does not have slash. I don't know if this is a one-shot or a multichap fic, so I guess I'll let feedback determine it.

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**Not Quite A Christmas Miracle**

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"They called it."

Those words echoed over the internal speaker system, startling each remaining member of the Avengers team from his or her own worries or sorrows. The man that Nick Fury spoke of had impacted all their lives to some degree. He had been the "fixer" who had ingratiated himself with Pepper and become something of a friend to Tony. He'd been a handler and mentor to Clint and Natasha—protecting the two SHIELD agents from themselves and the organization they served. He'd snarked with the best of them in New Mexico in the face of a demigod. And he'd acted the part of a starstruck kid with Steve. Come to think of it, only Bruce had failed to truly bond with the agent, but that didn't mean that the sometimes green hero wouldn't feel the loss as well.

Standing before the downed agent, Nick Fury swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched the medics shake their heads. He would not cry, he reminded himself harshly, wondering if his remaining eye would be obedient to this command.

Coulson had been his second in command and friend for so long that it felt strange not to have the man making some shrewd and nearly insubordinate comment about the moisture creeping down Fury's cheek.

The sound of a garbled cry tumbling from the lips of the formerly still agent startled Fury as Coulson's still form suddenly erupted with motion. Nick gaped as he watched. Phil'd been dead. Taking a step closer, he suddenly realized that someone had their hand on the agent—and _something _was flowing into Coulson. Never one to believe in miracles, his first instinct was to treat this as yet another of Loki's schemes. Unholstering his weapon, he aimed at the woman crouched beside Coulson. "Get away from Agent Coulson," he commanded, his voice cold and deadly.

The woman turned her head slightly, a confused look on her face. "He will not die today," she muttered softly. Meeting Fury's gaze, she offered a wilted smile. "He was right that they needed something to avenge. But they need him more," she whispered just before his bullet sent her sliding to the ground.

Nick shook his head, not quite believing what he was seeing.

"Get medics up here!" he bellowed into his communications headset. "Now, damn it! Coulson's alive!"

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_**TBC?**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Not Quite A Christmas Miracle**

Summary: Fanfic fix for Coulson's death. 'Cause I liked the snarky guy.

Author's Note: This has OCs. I will, hopefully, keep everyone in character. Also this does not have slash. Thank you so much to those who reviewed and favorited and alerted on this story! I really appreciate the feedback as this is the first time I've ventured into the story of the Avengers. Please, keep your comments coming.

Disclaimers: I own nothing except, perhaps, any OCs I dream up. No profit is being made from this story.

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**Chapter Two**

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Phil Coulson stood in the hallway just outside the infirmary. Had he not seen the footage of Loki plunging his spear through his chest, the veteran agent would have scoffed at having been so grievously wounded. However, a ruined suit and the video evidence were hard to refute.

He should be dead. Had been dead, to be exact.

Until the woman currently in quarantine had done _something_ to him. According to Dr. Banner, he was in perfect physical condition—even his ulcer was gone. Though, in his line of work, that was sure to return.

So now he stood, in another black suit and white dress shirt, watching his savior.

While he had come to believe in heroes, he was hard pressed to decide whether or not the woman seated lotus style on the metal floor had purely altruistic purposes. No stranger simply appeared out of nowhere on a more than classified helicarrier and swiped a man from death. How she'd gotten onto the ship wasn't at issue _yet_ but it would be. Right now, Coulson wanted to know her motives. Oh, and how the hell she'd brought him back from the dead.

Yeah, that would be a good start.

Bruce Banner stepped into the hallway with him, brown eyes returning periodically to watch the strange woman on the floor. He couldn't explain her. She'd been shot and left in a holding cell until after the battle for New York had been concluded and yet she wasn't asking for an attorney or even for a painkiller. He had the bullet in the pocket of his lab coat. He knew it had bounced around a bit in her body from how smashed up it was but she wasn't a bit worse for wear.

"Coulson," he offered, stepping to the side of the agent.

Phil cut his eyes to the resident expert on gamma radiation and nodded. "So, Doctor Banner, what would your assessment be?"

Bruce ran a hand through his ruffled dark hair and shrugged. "No visible wounds. On either of you, I might add. And from your own records I count at least five scars that are missing. Not to mention your high blood pressure, acid reflux and ulcer are gone. As a doctor, I can suggest some relaxation techniques."

Phil allowed a tiny smile before it vanished as quickly as it came. "Ah."

Bruce chuckled and turned his eyes back to the woman in quarantine. She didn't seem like a biohazard but she had brought a seriously dead man back to the land of the living. That had more than a few questions rattling around some very smart people's brains and at least five members of the Avengers wanting to give her bone-shattering hugs. "As to our mystery guest, she's none the worse for wear for that bullet." He pulled out the plastic cylinder holding the bullet from his pocket and passed it to the agent. "No trauma and minimal blood loss. The only way I can explain her collapse after healing you is, perhaps, exhaustion?"

Phil nodded. "I see. I should have a chat with her." He started towards the door of the infirmary, his hand reaching for the door.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "You're not intending on shooting her again, are you?"

Coulson allowed a dry laugh. "Not unless she does something that warrants it."

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	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Fanfic fix for Coulson's death. 'Cause I liked the snarky guy.

Author's Note: This has OCs. I will, hopefully, keep everyone in character. Also this does not have slash. Again, thank you for the feedback. I'm having fun writing this in part because of the reception. Very cool, folks.

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Still not making a profit.

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**Chapter Three**

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The hiss of air exchanging as the hermetically sealed door once again opened and closed was the only hint that Phil Coulson had stepped into the quarantine ward of the infirmary. That and the faint scent and taste of something medicinal. It made the back of his throat dry.

"Good morning," he offered pleasantly, taking in the appearance of his savior. "Who are you?"

The girl seated on the floor looked up through a curtain of hair and chuckled. "Get right to it, dontcha?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter. Her eyes, what he could see of them through that mop of hair, assessed him critically. "You're looking better," she offered evenly, a hint of Midwestern accent flavoring her words.

Coulson stepped to one of the tables and the pitchers of water, pouring himself a glassful before taking a healthy swig. It didn't wash away the taste of the air but it helped the dryness. "As are you, I understand. And your name?"

The girl shrugged. "Not much you can do with it, I suppose. Not like I really exist." She slowly unfolded herself from her seated position and stood. "Mind if I have a glass of that?" She motioned towards the pitcher he was currently using.

Phil nodded, quickly pouring another glass and handing it to the girl, who greedily downed the contents in moments. "What do you mean, 'you don't really exist'?"

Another shrug in answer. "Just that. Not in any databases that you have. Just not there. Though this kinda screws that six ways to Sunday," she added grouchily.

Coulson allowed a small smirk. She wasn't wrong. "Well, since you're obviously not comfortable telling me your name, how about telling me how you got onto this ship?"

The girl shifted from one foot to another. "I called in a favor. A 'porter I know flashed in and dropped me off. Figured I would sneak off at the next stop."

Coulson swallowed the urge to gape. Did she think that the helicarrier worked like some stop on the green line? "Porter?"

"Teleporter. He doesn't have anything to do with this other than giving me the transport onto the ship," she added hastily.

Coulson nodded, though he doubted it. They'd get to the bottom of that situation later. A thorough review of the security tapes was definitely called for. "And how did you stay hidden? The first that anyone saw of you was when Director Fury shot you."

A wince and a quick rub at her shoulder would have told Coulson where Fury had shot her if he hadn't already read the incident report. "Yeah, guess I should thank him for not doing a headshot. Those take longer to heal." She shoved her hands back through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes with a sigh of what sounded like disgust. "This is a big ship. Find a black spandex outfit and you're pretty invisible."

Coulson nodded again, though this time grimly. "I see. And what, exactly, did you do to me?"

Again the fidgeting commenced. Coulson was starting to learn her tells. "I guess you could say that I shared my lifeforce. Not that we're bonded or magically connected to each other," she added hastily. "I just fixed you like a car engine."

Coulson allowed a dry chuckle. "Ah. First mechanic I've met who's been shot by Director Fury."

Another shrug. "Look, I didn't hurt anybody. I didn't mean any harm, either. Just…this is a little bigger than I thought it was. Can we forget this?"

Coulson gaped. Seriously? "Young lady, you broke into a top-secret installation, wandered around doing goodness knows what and you want us to forget it?" He paused as she nodded. "It doesn't work that way."

The young woman pouted, plopping down onto one of the hospital beds in the room. "Crap. Not even 'cause I saved your life?" she asked hopefully.

Coulson shook his head. "If you were looking for a bargaining chip, it would have been better if you had let me die."

That caused the young woman to pull a face. "Not bloody likely, buddy. So, I'm in custody then. Great, just great. So, now what?"

Coulson shifted, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared. "Your name?"

Another shrug. "I guess you can call me Grace. Yeah, that'll work."

"For now."

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TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

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Summary: Fanfic fix for Coulson's death. 'Cause I liked the snarky guy.

Author's Note: This has OCs. I will, hopefully, keep everyone in character. Also this does not have slash. Again, thank you for the feedback. I'm having fun writing this in part because of the reception. Very cool, folks.

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Still not making a profit.

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**Chapter Four**

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"Now, _Grace_, let's get properly acquainted," suggested Coulson, pulling a chair across the floor tiles to set it before the hospital bed. Seating himself, he watched as the girl straightened on the edge of the hospital bed, her paper bootie-clad feet swinging above the floor and her hands resting in her lap. She reminded him of a schoolgirl. All she was missing was the outfit. He shook his head to clear the image.

The girl nodded. "Shoot, boss. What would you like to know about little old me?" she asked, cocking her head to one side, a lock of barely curling hair falling in front of one of her eyes with the action. A faint Southern inflection colored her words—barely there, but unmistakeable.

Phil allowed himself a small smile and settled more comfortably in the chair, producing a small tablet computer from his jacket pocket. "You've given me your name. Or what you prefer to be called, rather. I feel it only fair to share my own. I am Agent Coulson. You may call me Coulson or Phil, if you like. Now, what are your goals?"

"Nice to meet you, Phil." Slightly chapped, pinked lips quirked at Coulson as she nodded to the man seated before her. "As to my goals, would you believe love, harmony, and monogamous sex?"

Coulson coughed lightly to cover the chuckle that burst from his lips. "I see." He cocked his head to one side as he watched his savior for a moment, eyes narrowing. "Monogamous sex? Are you acquainted with Tony Starke?"

A chuckle burbled from her lips and she shook her head decisively. "Only by what I see on TV, Phil. Kind of never went for the playboy type," she admitted with a careless shrug. "My turn. What's a nice, handsome guy like you doing interrogating some freak with healing powers? Shouldn't you be out saving the world from the big bads?"

Phil tapped the tablet and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. "I have a feeling that I'm right where I should be. There are quite a few people who are very interested in what you did on this ship." His eyes widened as he watched her pale. "Are you alright?"

"None of them wants to dissect my brain, do they?" she asked in a small voice, suddenly sounding very young. Phil filed that away—he really had no idea how old the woman before him was. That might be important, he decided.

Phil shook his head. "No, Grace." He paused, lips quirking up in a half-smile. "And what makes you think that I'm a nice man, Grace?"

A guffaw erupted from Grace, head thrown back as she laughed. It sounded rich and free. "That's rich, Phil." She noticed that he ignored her comment about 'handsome'…interesting. "So, what happens now?"

Phil stood smoothly, straightening his suit as he fixed his best 'secret agent' look on the woman before him. "Well, Grace, effective immediately you are released to my custody." He glanced down at his watch. "We have a flight to catch and some people who are very interested in meeting you."

Grace nodded and scooted off the hospital bed, motioning to the hospital greens that she wore currently. "Got something in a nice basic black that I can wear?" she asked.

Phil chuckled. "I think I can manage something. Follow me, Grace."

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TBC...


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